by Jen Talty
“She wants a percentage, and she wants it so if we ever do sell, she’s as much of an owner as the kids—though a smaller piece of the pie.” Weezer arched a brow. “Those were her numbers. I would split it equally among them all.”
“This is a screwed-up situation. It will eventually come out.”
She nodded. Carter was right. But they had to somehow control the how and when. “Do you remember the week before my grandfather died and all the crazy things he said?”
“I do.” Carter tilted his head. “Are you thinking there’s really a box of secrets out by the river’s edge?”
“My grandfather was a strange, old man.”
“Agreed.” Carter let out a slight chuckle. “Well, maybe we should go digging? And before I forget, I heard through the grapevine that Malbec and Eliza Jane are having dinner tonight.” He pushed himself from the rock, taking Weezer into his arms. “I have to admit, I do think you might be right about those two.”
“I know I am. But our son is too much like me. Now that he knows what I planned, he’ll never even consider it.”
“You’re not giving our son enough credit.” Carter pushed her hair over her shoulders. “Since you’re backing off, he’s going to be curious. That’s his nature, and we raised him to be that way.”
The corners of her mouth curved into an upward smile. “When all of this is over, I just might have to marry you again.”
Malbec
Malbec closed the back door of his vehicle and heard the sound of some Southern rock song coming from the back patio. He took his bag of groceries and two bottles of his signature wine and strolled around the side of the cottage. He leaned against the wood railing and stared at the sexy woman doing a little dance while watering some plants. Her backside wiggled back and forth to the beat of the drums.
As quietly as he could, he set the bag on the table. He didn’t want to startle her and have her turn, spraying him with water. He cleared his throat as soon as he thought he was out of spraying distance. “Hey there,” he said.
She spun on her heels. “Hey yourself.” She twisted the nozzle and coiled the hose. “You’re a few minutes early.”
“It’s a River curse.” He lifted the top to the grill and cringed. It would take a good ten minutes to burn off the crud that had collected on the grate. He turned the switch and lit one of the burners.
And then the second and third.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “Are you ready to grill?”
“This thing is disgusting. I wouldn’t eat off it.” He pointed.
She placed her hand on his shoulder and leaned over. “Gross. I’ve never used it. Your mom said she had someone put in a new tank. I assumed it would be clean.”
“Never assume anything when it comes to my mom. She generally takes care of everything, but something always slips through the cracks. Seems that this is one of those things. The good news is that it’s not that difficult to take care of, and by the time it burns off, I’ll be ready to cook the steaks. They have been marinating for the last few hours. I also brought some corn.”
“Sounds great.” She pulled out a bottle of wine. “Shall I open this?”
“Please. By all means. I brought it for us to enjoy.”
She glanced at the label. “Oh. This looks like a good year.”
“One of our finest.” He closed the top of the grill. “We should really work toward recreating this blend and flavor.”
“We? You say that as if you’ve made up your mind.” She stood at the outside bar and uncorked the bottle. She put an aerator into the top before pouring two glasses and handing him one, giving him a chance to mull over his answer, which was a complicated one.
His current employer understood he had ownership in his family winery. When he negotiated the contract, he’d made sure that wouldn’t be a problem in case, God forbid, something happened to his parents, and he was left with the business and had to do something with it. He certainly didn’t want a conflict of interest.
Now, all he had in his heart and mind was conflict, and he had no clue what to do. He couldn’t talk to his mom because she wanted him to hook up with Eliza Jane.
No way would Malbec have a conversation with his father about it, because he always took his mom’s side.
His brothers were useless and would only either end up giving him a hard time or feeding him stupid ideas that would only scare Eliza Jane away. Talking to his sisters might give him some useful information, but they couldn’t keep their mouths shut to save their sorry collective asses.
“I honestly haven’t,” he said. Giving Eliza Jane a line of crap or a contrived answer would only make matters worse. “This is the first time since I graduated college that I’ve given coming back to Candlewood Falls any serious thought. I still prefer the idea of having the best of both worlds.”
“That’s a lot on one man’s plate.” She pulled out a chair and made herself comfortable at the table. She’d already set it and put a large salad bowl with plastic wrap pulled tightly over the top in the center.
His mother would be impressed. Weezer liked to be prepared.
He took a step back and examined the cottage. It needed a fresh coat of paint and, at first glance, appeared to be run-down and in need of a ton of repairs. But when he looked closely at what he thought were major problems, he found that they were easy fixes. He had to wonder how far his mother had gone to make it look as if the winery were slipping through her fingers, because there was nothing wrong with the vineyard. The grapes were in perfect condition.
So, why had the last two years of wine tasted off?
Because his mother wanted it to.
She’d stop at nothing to get her way.
Now he had to ask why she had given up so quickly and agreed to have a real discussion with him about the future.
“I’ve worked hard to get where I am. I’m not inclined to give it up so easily.” He picked up the scraper and rubbed it over the grill. “However, since I’ve been home, I’ve really paid attention to how much my mom and the rest of my family needs me.”
“Are you doing this out of guilt?”
“I haven’t done anything yet. And, no.” He pulled the steaks out of the bag and opened the container. After tossing them onto the grill, he added the foiled-wrapped corn. Dinner would be ready in about ten minutes. He enjoyed that they could converse while he cooked. It gave him something mindless to do as he searched for the right thing to say.
Which seemed to be the truth—even when he wasn’t exactly sure what that was.
“I’ve never felt guilty for leaving. Or staying away,” he admitted.
“Did you get a chance to ask your mom about that secret?”
He shook his head. “I’m going to be spending some time with her tomorrow. I’ll do it then.”
“Is that really the reason you refused to come home and work at the winery all these years?” She lifted the glass to her lips and took a slow slip.
He tried desperately not to stare, but that became impossible. “When my grandfather told me there was a secret, my mother went off on him like I’d never seen before. And trust me when I say that Weezer River didn’t argue with her father, much less speak back to him, but she cursed him out like a drunken sailor.”
And in front of a few of her older kids.
When the fight concluded, his mom told him that he was never to speak of it to his grandfather again. That his grandpa had misspoken and that his mind was fractured.
“Older generations are so weird when it comes to grudges and secrets. It drove me nuts. When my grandpa found out that his father used to own a winery and never told anyone, and then refused to discuss where it was or why he’d let it go, it caused a rift. I believe my father and grandfather found out what happened to that winery because that rift became loathing.”
Malbec poked the steaks and flipped them. The smell of fresh, cooking meat hit his nostrils, making his stomach growl. “They never told you?”
&n
bsp; “Whatever winery he owned, he lost it in a card game. I guess he had a drinking and gambling problem. My grandfather blamed him for my grandma running out on them and the fact they were always poor. I think learning there had been a family business and that he’d gambled it away about killed both my father and grandfather.”
“That’s really rough.”
“I have to admit, I’m a little jealous that your secrets don’t really affect your family relationships.”
He tossed his head back and laughed. It wasn’t a real one, but more of a fake, sarcastic one. “Are you kidding me? We’re crazy dysfunctional. I’d say the only difference is that we’re not willing to cut each other out of our lives completely. But we’ve all set up boundaries and occasionally have to remind each other of them.”
“The only thing that secret might have done is keep you from being where you belong. But I suspect there is more to that story than meets the eye.”
“I don’t know about that.” He turned the corn and closed the lid. Only about three more minutes before he’d be slapping that perfectly cooked meat on their plates.
“I can understand you getting upset, but for over fifteen years? Something else must have happened.”
Malbec hated to admit, even to himself, that Eliza Jane was right. This was a threefold story. The first part being the secret he didn’t know. The second part being how his mother never quite trusted him to actually oversee the production of the wine.
But the final kicker had been two years ago when his mother had scared off the one woman he’d had any real feelings for. Her only excuse had been that he’d thank her later.
Right. That day would never come.
He’d forgiven his mother, and that girl had moved on. She was actually engaged to be married, and Malbec did his best to be happy for her and her new fiancé. What choice did he have?
“Lots of things have happened, but it’s the secret that has kept me from wanting to run the family business. It’s what kept the rest of my siblings from wanting it, as well.”
“So, they all know there is a big, dark past?”
Malbec nodded. “The twins and Zinfandel don’t care. They figure the past is in the past. Chablis wants nothing to do with the winery, but she’s still hurt. So is Merlot. Riesling struggles the most with her relationship with my mom.”
“Even more than you?”
“Oh, yeah. But that has less to do with the secret and more to do with Riesling’s ex and how that affects my niece, Ashling.”
“I got to meet her this morning when Riesling stopped by with something for your dad. It was in passing and really short, but she seems like such a sweet and smart little girl.”
“That she is. But when my mom has an opinion about the person you date and it’s not a good one, beware. Well, my mother hated Theo with a passion and made that poor man’s life miserable.”
“Weezer told me he was a deadbeat and that he hasn’t seen his daughter in almost two years.”
“That’s only partly true,” Malbec said. “Theo is a jerk. And he’s a shitty father. But he’s not required to send child support, and if they’d been married, my sister would have been the one paying him alimony.”
“Your mom made it sound like Ashling’s dad does nothing.”
“Well, he doesn’t come around, that’s for sure.” He flipped open the grill and stabbed the steaks. They were perfect. He placed them on the plates with the corn and set them on the table before topping off the wine and joining Eliza Jane. “Thing is, when he does show up, Ashling lights up like a Christmas tree. She doesn’t know anything other than he’s her father and she loves him. Only he doesn’t come here to see her. He comes for a handout, and my sister often gives it to him because it’s easier than breaking her daughter’s heart.”
“That’s a shitty position to be in.”
“It is. We all wish it were different, and my mom always tries to cut Theo off at the pass when he shows up in town, but again, once Ashling sees him, we all just have to sit back and let it play out.”
“Did you ever think you are all doing exactly what your mom has been doing with that secret? What my great-grandpa did when he gambled away his winery and didn’t tell his family? That maybe, in the long run, not telling her the truth about her father will only hurt her more?”
“She’s too young to understand all that right now.”
Eliza Jane tilted her head. “The longer you perpetuate this, the harder it will become to tell the truth. Just like it was for our parents.”
Malbec had to admit that she had a valid point. One that made way too much sense. However, it wasn’t his place to tell his sister what to do. And then there was his mother. The puppet master.
Maybe during their conversation tomorrow, he’d broach the topic. Why the hell not? It was time that things changed around here.
“You’re a very wise woman, Eliza Jane.” He tipped his glass. “Cheers to what I hope will be a great friendship.”
She tapped her glass against his and took a large sip before picking up her knife and fork and slicing into the tender steak.
He leaned back in his chair and soaked up the pretty view. He hadn’t been this enamored by a lady in a long time, and he wasn’t sure how to handle it. Eliza Jane wasn’t the kind of woman he would ever want a one-night stand with. He respected her too much, and he also knew he’d want more.
And it wasn’t about sex.
It was about being in her company. He hung on her every word and genuinely valued her opinions, even when they disagreed. He wanted to hear what she had to say on any and every subject.
She waved her fork. “Oh, my God. This is delicious.”
“Thank you. I made the marinade myself.”
“I can taste the family wine.” She nodded. “Your father makes this, doesn’t he? We sell this.”
“We do. But I made it fresh and, of course, the steaks have to be cooked properly.”
“Well, hats off to the chef.” She rolled her corn into the butter palette. Some dribbled down her chin when she took a few bites off the cob.
He reached across the table and dabbed at her face with a napkin.
“Thank you.” She blinked a few times.
A sudden quietness came over them as they finished the last few nibbles of their meals. He stared out at the sun as it kissed the horizon, casting a glow over the vineyards. It wasn’t the rolling hilltops of Napa Valley, but nothing was more magical than Candlewood Falls and the small river that ran through the winery. When he was a kid, he’d found an old black-and-white picture of three rows of grapevines. In front of them was a sign that read The River’s Edge. When he asked his parents, they told him that his great-grandfather had originally named the winery that when he was still doing moonshine, but when they went legit, they changed the name.
Later, he’d looked it up in the history books in the library and, sure enough, the original name had been, The River’s Edge.
The River Winery made much more sense since their main product became wine, not whiskey.
“I love sitting out here at night,” she said softly.
“How long have you been in Candlewood Falls?”
“A little over a week,” she admitted. “I never thought New Jersey could be so beautiful. I expected to be staring at skyscrapers or sandwiched houses on an overcrowded beach.”
He laughed as he tossed his napkin onto his empty plate. “Oh. We have those too, but this is the part of New Jersey that people forget exists, and we’re all sorts of secretly happy about that. Except for when they show up to buy our wine and spend their money in our town.”
“You sound like you miss it.”
“I do.” He stood, piling the dirty dishes on top of one another. “I miss the change of seasons, and I miss my family.”
“I appreciate you being honest with me about that.” She followed him into the kitchen with the rest of the table settings.
They settled in next to one another in front of the sink and
seamlessly worked to tackle the dirty dishes. It was an odd feeling to be elbow-to-elbow with her, and while there was definitely a fair amount of tension, it wasn’t the kind of conflict that his presence at the winery had created.
This had a much more personal flare, and he found himself inching closer until his forearm touched hers.
“So, be truthful with me about where you see my role here at the winery,” she said.
“Thus far, you appear to be as good as my mother says you are. So, if I choose to stay in Napa Valley, I would think you’d manage and oversee everything while answering to my mother and me. And, eventually, if I can talk Merlot and Chablis into it, they would play a more active role in the daily functions—though it’s possible, if I stay on, they might want to give up their current careers.”
“That means there’s a possibility that you would quit your job and come back here.” She turned and leaned her hip against the counter. “That would displace me.”
He wiped his hand on the towel and set it on top of the drying rack. “I don’t want that to happen.” Resting his hands gently on her hips, he inched closer. “No matter what I do, I want to keep you on.”
“Why? Because just a day ago—”
“Tonight’s dinner is about starting over, and I told you, you’re good at your job.”
“No. You said it appeared that I was. Is there really room for the two of us here?” She held his glare with an unblinking stare.
“There’s room for you and my mom. Why wouldn’t there be room for you and me?”
“That’s different, and you know it. She’s a master. I’m still learning.”
He circled his arms around her waist, heaving her to his chest. “Do not sell yourself that short. You’re incredible, and you are no more of an apprentice to my mother than I am.”
“It’s still different because she’s not going to be here for as long as I am. You and I are about the same age.” She rested her hands on his shoulders and tilted her head. “I’ve already seen how we might butt heads on some procedures.”
“I can be open-minded.”
“Not when it comes to making your family wine.” She licked her lips, which were the color of a rose. “I know I sound like a broken record, but I can’t put in any more time here if I’m going to be pushed out in five years.”
